


Spitzenstoff von einer Hexe

by Haelblazer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Siblings, Awkward Kissing, Begging, Blow Jobs, Castiel and Hannah are Twins, Cat Voyeurism, Coitus Interruptus, Crack, Cunnilingus, Dean in Panties, Dungeon, Exhibitionism, Exhibitionist Dean, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Fight Sex, French Kissing, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mythology References, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play, Nipples, Objectification, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Prince Castiel, Princess Anna, Princess Hannah, Rough Kissing, Slap Slap Kiss, Thief Dean, Thief Sam, True Love's Kiss, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5999131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haelblazer/pseuds/Haelblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not quite the Midas touch, but still: Dean is cursed; every fabric that he touches turns to pink lace. Only true love’s kiss can cure him. Or something like that. Kind of inconvenient for a thief who’s on the run. Even more inconvenient for a thief locked in the palace dungeon. Then again, maybe not.  (Loosely inspired by Greek mythology. Extremely loosely inspired.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spitzenstoff von einer Hexe

**Author's Note:**

> I mean every one of those pairing tags. The first chapter is the least explicit one. This fic gets progressively less tasteful as we move along.
> 
> ETA: Now updated to include the quite fitting cover art created by Mayalaen (author of the alluring Wincestiel panty theft fic The Case of the Missing Panties). I'll reply to your generous comments in the next chapter's notes, which will go up once I can step away from Soupernabturel's enticing Destiel Russian Mafia prison fic Folsom Prison Pastel. Head on into the SPN Coldest Hits collection to read along with me; Solitary by reaperlove looks like a wonderfully twisted Cockles psychopath au, I think I'll read that next. So many lovely distractions!

“You should consider it an honor. This is a variation on the gift granted to King Midas. You’re amongst royalty.” There was a slight upturn to her lips and it remained when she pressed them together. On anyone else, it might indicate someone holding in a laugh. On Rowena, it looked like an expression she’d set aside specifically for gloating.

“You don’t think you’re maybe overreacting a little bit here?” Dean spread his arms wide and dipped his head to gesture at his newly transformed attire. What had once been blue jeans, a black shirt, and green plaid over-shirt, now blended together in layers of baby pink lace. Even his black work-boots were drizzled in a pink lace overlay, strung together with pink lace laces. Ugh. The rubber soles remained unchanged because apparently this curse only had an effect on fabric.

“You insulted my choice of décor.” Rowena didn’t even look offended. She had an eyebrow raised now like she was attempting to teach manners to a naughty child.

“Look, I said sorry—” Dean started, but she interrupted him.

“You most certainly did not. As a matter of fact, you still haven’t.”

Dean sighed. “Okay. Fine. I’m _sorry_. I _apologize_.”

“You apologize for what?” Rowena was keeping up the scolding routine and Dean had to close his eyes and take a deep breath to stop himself from flinging a sarcastic remark at her. _Don’t taunt the witch, don’t taunt the witch._ He chanted to himself. If this is the kind of thing she did over a careless slight, he really didn’t want to find out what she’d do to him if he intentionally insulted her—especially with Sam still hiding out from the authorities one town over. Then again, maybe it was for the best that Sam didn’t see him like this.

“I apologize for making fun of your doilies.” Dean waved vaguely at the accents that had brought on all of this nonsense. “What do I know about decorations, right?”

“Indeed,” Rowena’s response was quick and sharp, free of the melodic false affection that her words had carried until that point. The change made Dean involuntarily flinch back and he was angry at himself for it. Frickin witches, man.

 

Dean’s nostrils flared as he sneered at her. He was helpless and he knew it. It was times like this that he couldn’t stop himself; he did something aggressively stupid or he did something petty, sometimes a bit of both. Now, he stomped over to the couch tucked up against the front wall and slapped his palm against every throw pillow there before sitting on the couch itself an crossing his arms. He glared up at Rowena from atop the pink lace monstrosity.

Rowena inclined her head just slightly, only one side of her mouth curved up in a smirk now. The silence sat between them for a moment before she spoke. “It’s actually rather fetching, but you know, I do think I prefer things the way they were.”

With a waggle of her fingers, and a mumble of words that Dean didn’t think he would understand even if he could hear them clearly, Rowena changed the fabric of her couch and her pillows back, even as Dean remained sitting there clad in lace.

“So you _can_ fix the curse.”

“Not _quite_.” Rowena didn’t look at Dean as she responded, instead raising her gaze to the ceiling in a mockery of someone playing coy.

“What do you mean ‘ _not quite_ ’.” Anger was evident in the bite of Dean’s tone and the clench of his fists.

“I meeeeeeeaaann,” Rowena drew out the word as she turned her gaze back onto him, “Why sure, I can remedy the symptoms, should I choose, but an ailment is still and ailment.”

Rowena took two leisurely steps closer to the couch, drawing Dean’s attention briefly to her feet, but back up to her face when she stopped.

“A curse is still a curse.”

Two steps again. Dean watched her feet, watched her face, remained silent.

“And what would be the point of a curse if one could just casually remove it?”

Two steps.

Dean didn’t remove his attention from her face this time.

She smiled with teeth.

“But you needn’t _worry_. This curse is standard, as curses go. And it has a _standard_ cure.”

“What’s the cure,” Dean didn’t hesitate to ask, but there was nothing eager in it. His voice was low and flat, experienced enough to know that he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“True love’s kiss, of course.”

“ _True love_?” Dean scowled at her. “Bullshit. It doesn’t exist.”

Rowena laughed, full and bubbly. As far as Dean could tell, it was the first genuine emotion that Dean had seen from her this evening. “True love is a weakness, dear, of course it exists. Now, it may not last forever, and it may not be shared by both parties in just the same way, and it will probably happen between the most inconvenient people in the most inconvenient times, but it most certainly exists.”

“True love.” He felt like a parrot, but the very idea was ridiculous, possibly more ridiculous than the stupid curse itself. “A weakness and a cure.”

“That’s what the spell-book says…” Rowena trailed off.

“Does it?” Dean stood up and mimicked her two-steps-forward routine from earlier, which garnered her another one of those tiny smirks.

“I suppose more accurately it says ‘an intimate kiss from the one who is in the most awe and full of limitless adoration,’ but that is that not a bit wordy?”

Dean clenched his fists again and it drew Rowena’s eye.

“I must admit though, I am starting to see what you meant about the pink lace doilies. The fabric just looks ridiculous if one wants to appear intimidating,” Rowena shook her head in disapproval as she looked Dean over.

A growl escaped Dean’s throat before he could stop it and his first almost-mindless instinct was to make her look as ridiculous as he did. He jabbed his pointer finger out and poked her shoulder, not even hard enough to press the fabric of her velvet dress into her flesh, but all it took was a brush of his skin to transform the dress.

It was even pettier than the couch transformation because he now knew that she could erase his efforts in an instant, but that knowledge was part of what allowed him to be so reckless. If he actually did inflict some kind of permanent damage to her property, she’d probably turn him into a bob cat or something.

He crossed his arms, waiting for her to change the dress back, and wondered if he could convince her to give him the real cure. They weren’t exactly having a staring contest; Dean was eyeing the swirling paths of red hair curling around her face, and she was looking down, examining her transformed dress.

“Tell me,” Rowena spoke without looking up at him, “Does it have the same effect?”

“Whuh?” Dean grunted out, feeling a bit lost.

“This fabric, does it have the same effect when I’m wearing it as it has when you are?” Rowena clarified, “Does it make me less intimidating?”

The question alone made Dean’s throat feel suddenly tighter, he didn’t need to look her over to know the answer.

The swooping neckline of Rowena’s dress sat no lower than it had when it was made of royal blue velvet, but he didn’t have to lower his eyes to see that the broadly woven lace exposed more skin below her collar bone. Unlike his jeans, his boots, and the couch, Rowena’s dress had suffered the same fate as his t-shirt. The garment clung tightly in a single thin layer, stretched thinner where it pulled over muscles and curves.

Dean at least had his tightly woven over-shirt, which fell loose and seemed to have a thick satin lining that felt nice and smooth shifting over Dean’s skin every time he moved. As much as he would have hated to admit that he loved the feel of that satin, he would have _loathed_ to admit that he loved the feel of the lace t-shirt he had on under it. Like Rowena’s dress, his t-shirt was a single thin layer, clinging to him as if it was tailored, yet too loosely woven to be anything but indecent. He could feel his right nipple poking through a gap in the lace and brushing directly against the satin of his over-shirt. Based on what he could see of Rowena, the left one probably wasn’t much less exposed even covered by the fabric.

The dress may have technically had her covered, but gave Dean a pretty clear picture of what was going on underneath.  Her skin and the fabric were both pale, but her nipples were dark enough to see the shape of them behind the lighter pink of the lace. He was surprised when he realized that she had nothing on underneath her dress, and then he was surprised by his own surprise. It’s not like he’d actively thought about it, he’d just kind of assumed she had a bra on, the same way he assumed that most people were wearing underwear and socks. He would’ve been wrong there too, it seemed.

Even before she had form-fitting lace to hold everything in place, her breasts had been sitting in that velvet dress in a way that….not that he was looking, okay! It’s just a thing that you don’t expect from a witch who’s somewhere between 40 and 400. You don’t expect certain things to hold up so well.

Maybe it was a witch thing.

“I think you’re lying,” Dean wanted to believe that she was lying, it was easier than if she were telling the truth. “I think _you_ can fix this.”

“I said it before, and I meant it. The fix requires true love—or adoration of some sort—and you won’t find anything of that nature in this cottage…though you are welcome to try.”

~*~

The kiss was sloppy and aggressive, the groping a bit one-sided but apparently appreciated, at the very least, since she looked like she was kicking back and enjoying herself as he felt her up. In the end though, there was no cure for Dean here. He left before nightfall, still clad in pink lace, with nothing to show for it except for a ten percent discount on the potions that had brought him to Rowena in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic for reasons: http://angrysouffle.tumblr.com/post/137788346743/february-rules-reblog-this-post-to-enter-your
> 
> (This fic was my second choice actually because my first idea was developing into an actual elaborately plotted THING. It was an assassin AU in which Dean was striving for pink lace status--something very elite in his organization. It was a PWP that somehow ended up overflowing with plot and who has time for that nonsense? So yeah, you get this fairy tale au thing instead.)


End file.
